- Home
- Everything and the Moon
Page 58
Page 58
He didn't bother to turn around when he replied, “I already told you that I will not allow you to return to that hellhole in London.”
“I meant in the next room.”
There was a long silence. “I want you here,” he finally said.
“Here?” she squeaked.
“I believe I have already said as much on two occasions.”
She decided to try another tactic and appeal to his deep sense of honor. “Robert, I know you are not the sort to take a woman against her will.”
“It isn't that,” he said with a disgusted scoff.“I don't trust you to stay put.”
Victoria swallowed the stinging retort that formed on her lips. “I promise I shan't try to escape again this evening. I give you my most solemn vow.”
“Pardon me if I'm not inclined to take you at your word.”
That stung, and Victoria recalled the time she had snorted with disdain when he'd said he had never broken a promise to her. It was remarkable how unpleasant it was to receive a taste of one's own medicine. She grimaced. “I didn't promise not to try to escape before. I am doing so now.”
He turned and stared at her with incredulous eyes. “You, my lady, should have been a politician.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Merely that you possess a stunning ability to use words to dance around the truth.”
Victoria laughed. She couldn't help it. “And what exactly is the truth?”
He stepped forward purposefully. “You need me.”
“Oh, please.”
“You do. You need me in every way a woman needs a man.”
“Don't say anything more, Robert. I would hate to be driven to violence.”
He chuckled at her sarcasm. “Love, companionship, affection. You need all of that. Why do you think you were so miserable as a governess? You were alone”.
“I could get a dog. A spaniel would be more intelligent company than you.”
He laughed again. “Just look how quick you were to claim me as your husband tonight. You could have made up a name, but no, you chose me.”
“I was using you,” she spat out. “Using you and your name to protect myself. That is all!”
“Ah, but even that wasn't enough, was it, my sweet?”
Victoria didn't particularly like the way he said “my sweet.”
“You needed the man, too. Those men didn't believe you until I arrived on the scene.”
“Thank you ever so much,” she ground out, not sounding particularly gracious. “You do have a flair for rescuing me from unpleasant situations.”
He smirked. “Ah, yes, I am ever useful.”
“Unpleasant situations that you cause,” she shot back.
“Really?” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“I suppose that I rose out of bed—in my sleep, no less—dragged you from your room, pushed you down the stairs, and then left you in front of the inn to be accosted by two pox-ridden drunkards.”
She pursed her lips in a prim expression. “Robert, you are behaving in a most unbecoming manner.”
“Ah, the governess returns.”
“You abducted me!” she nearly shrieked, completely losing hold of her temper. “You kidnapped me! If you had left me alone, as I have repeatedly asked you to, I would have been safe and sound in my own bed.”
He stepped forward and jabbed her in the shoulder. “Safe and sound?” he repeated. “In your neighborhood? A bit of a contradiction of terms, I think.”
“Ah, yes, and you magnanimously took it upon yourself to rescue me from my foolishness.”
“Someone had to.”
Her hand shot out to slap his cheek, but he caught her wrist easily. Victoria wrenched it from his grasp. “How dare you,” she hissed. “How dare you condescend to me? You say you love me, but you treat me like a child. You—”
He cut her off by clamping his hand down on her mouth. “You'll say something you regret.”
She stomped on his foot. Hard. He was trying to tell her what she wanted again, and she hated him for that.
“That is it!” he roared. “I have shown the patience of Job with you! I deserve a goddamn sainthood!” Before Victoria had a chance to react to his use of “goddamn” and “sainthood” in the same sentence, Robert picked her up and tossed her effortlessly onto the bed.
Victoria's mouth fell open. Then she started to slither off the mattress. Robert caught her ankle, though, and held firm. “Let go of me,” she ground out, grabbing the far end of the bed with her hands and trying to pull herself from his grasp. She wasn't successful. “Robert, if you do not let go of my ankle…”
The lout actually had the nerve to laugh. “What will you do, Victoria? Do tell.”
Seething with frustration and anger, Victoria stopped pulling and instead used her other foot to kick him soundly in the chest. Robert let out a grunt of pain and released his grip on her ankle, but before Victoria could scramble off the bed, he was on top of her, his weight pinning her against the mattress.
And he looked furious.
“Robert,” she began, trying to use a conciliatory tone.
He stared down at her, his eyes burning with something that wasn't quite desire, although there was a good deal of that, too. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw those two men pawing at you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Mutely she shook her head.
“I felt rage,” he said, his grip on her upper arms loosening into what could only be called a caress. “It was primitive, and it was hot, and it was pure.”